Let the games commence
by Neiraaa
Summary: While we were all admiring the London Olympics opening ceremony, two men, John Watson and Sebastian Moran, were in for a surprise. Their dead friends are back. What exactly were Sherlock and Moriarty up to these few years? Secrets were reviled, guys with high cheekbones were punched, people were blackmailed, but the most important thing was that the two man came back home. Two sho
1. John and Sherlock reunited

Sadly, I don't own Sherlock Holmes.

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On July 27th 2012, the eyes of the whole world were on London. For the third time, the honor of hosting the Olympics was given to them and the expectations were high. The country that bares the name the GREAT Britain can not allow itself to fail.

Of course, unless you spend the last few days in a cave on Mars, you are already aware of this fact. However, the following two stories will not be about the ceremony itself. That night secrets were revealed, guys with high cheekbones were punched, people were blackmailed, but the most important thing was that the two man came home.

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Doctor John Watson wasn't feeling good that day. The good news was that this wasn't some kind of emotional pain. He had his share of that in the last few years. The bad news was that he threw up right in front of the doors of his boss who came out of the office in that exact moment, tripped and broke his left hand. So, all in all, that wasn't the best day of John's life.

He was now laying in front of the telly, with a cup of tea in his hands and a high fever in his body. It's been a long time since he turned the TV on. More than two years to be exact; Since the day when Sherlock Holmes took his life. He couldn't listen to them saying that he was a fraud and a liar. All the news he wanted to hear were easily accessible over the internet anyway.

He fought desperately not to fall asleep. His homeland was hosting the Olympic and he probably won't live to see that happening again. The ceremony was just about to start, but John was already almost out. There is no way he could have ever stayed awake if he didn't hear a familiar voice; Deep, silky, perfect for storytelling and belonging to a dead man. He stood up and was wide awake in the matter of seconds. As much as he stared at the screen, the picture on it wasn't changing. The man was tall, slender and had brown hair. As much as it seemed impossible, the person who stated the broadcast of the Olympics games by saying:

-Let the games commence.- was no other than Sherlock Holmes.

John stated walking around the living room. He was dreaming. That must have been it. Or maybe his fever was high that he was starting to hallucinate. And, yes, there was the possibility that he was just losing his mind.

He almost didn't allow himself to think that the man on the screen was actually his dead friend. It must have been a doppelganger, a long lost twin, a robot. Anything made more sense that this.

-I can't believe I'm doing this.- John muttered to himself as he took his phone and, with his hand still shaking, typed:

-There was a guy on TV. He looked just like you. And sounded like you too. Please, Sherlock, if you're out there, please, call me.- When he pressed SEND he just collapsed on his couch and stared at the wall.

Ten minutes have passed. Then ten more. Soon, a whole hour went by and John realized that he made a fool of himself by texting a dead man. If they have cell phones in heaven, they probably can't text was hard to get a text back from Sherlock when he was alive.

As John took his phone to delete the text he sent and send another one to his friend Mary, who was a psychiatrist, telling her that she'll receive a visit from him in the morning, the phone lighten up. He received a new text message:

-Open your doors. SH.- John has no idea how he managed to get to the front doors. Every part of his body was shaking. He just knew that he was holing the doorknob, too afraid to pull it. Maybe someone got the hold of Sherlock's phone and was now pulling a mean prank on him. Maybe he got hit by a car on his way back from work and was now in a coma. But maybe, just maybe, Sherlock Holmes was waiting on the other side of the doors. And that small possibility of happy ever after made John finally open the doors.

He found himself face to face with the man he saw on TV. He was smiling and the smile was honest and childlike.

-John, it's nice to see you again.- he said.

-Sherlock, is that really you?- John asked.

-Yes, John, who else would it be?- Next second, Sherlock was on the floor, bleeding. There was a cut on his face from where John just landed a mighty punch.

-Gee, I don't know! Benedict Cumberbatch maybe! You jerk! Why didn't you tell me? I thought you were dead, you dick!- Sherlock stood up.

-I'm sorry John. It was all to protect you. Let me in and I'll tell you everything.- he promised.

When they were in the living room, John sat him on the couch.

-Come on, let's hear it. How did you survive, why did you lie to me and what on Earth are you doing on the BBC?-

-Moriarty gave me a choice: Either I kill myself or you, Lestade and Mrs. Hudson die. I couldn't risk your life so I did what he said. Surviving the fall wasn't that hart, to be honest. I just…- A small wormhole opened in fabric of space-time continuum in John's living room, sucked up the sound of Sherlock's explanation and took it to a parallel universe (this one, to be exact) where Moffat, Gatiss and Thomson were trying to figure out how to throw someone of a building and have them survive the fall.

The author would like to apologize to the readers if this strange phenomenon decreased the reading experience of this story.

-That was brilliant.- said John. Sherlock's lips parted in a small, proud smile –Bloody amazing.-

-Well, it was a stroke of genius, to be hones.- admitted Sherlock.

-You did that for us? Thank you.- said John.

-You did save my life multiple times. I should be thanking you.- replied the taller man.

-Ok, now the last question. What were you doing announcing the start of one of the biggest things in our country?-

-After the fall, I didn't want to go into hiding. There were countless loose ends to Moriarty's organization. So, Mycroft talked to one of his closest friends, a show writer, who was starting this new show and he needed a lead. You know I was a part time actor in my days...-

-No I did not know that. What did you act in? Why didn't you tell me?- John was baffled. What else was this strange man hiding?

-I acted in a lot of things, but my favorites were a film about that scientist and that play about Frankenstein.-

-I went to see that with Sarah when we were still together.- said John –Wait, does that mean that you were doing the theater when we were living together?- he asked.

-I thought it was obvious. It was all under the alias of Benedict Cumberbatch.- John felt like he was about to faint so he just skipped to the next question. There will be time for freaking out later. Although, a lot of things that Sherlock did, like dying his hair all the time, growing strange facial hair and disappearing for days made a lot more sense.

-So, what happened with the show?- he wondered.

-I took the job so I could stay close to London and continue sabotaging Moriarty's web without exposing you to danger. Unfortunately, the things got a little out of control.-

-What happened?-

-The show was a massive success and my costar and I became world wide famous.- he said in a flat voice.

-You sure know how to keep a low profile.- commented John.

-The best place to hide is in plain site. No one will ever think that a famous, good guy actor is actually a consulting detective on the run.- he assured John –They asked me to make that little sketch and I said yes. You are suppose to be at work now.-

-I was sick, so I came home. Do you always schedule your appearance around my plans?-

-I try to as much as I can. I was going to visit you by December. I didn't want you to freak out in the theatre.- Sherlock said -I had to play a good boy for more then two years now. And I couldn't just say no to parts and now I'm stuck paying the villain in Star Trek and dragon in Hobbit.-

-What?- yelled John as his brain tried to put together all the puzzle pieces. He knew he heard the name Benedict Cumberbatch before. Sherlock just stared at him blankly.

-Smaug the Dragon. I had no idea what he was before, but I've read the books and…- John pointed to his book shelf.

-Everything Tolkien ever wrote is there. I've been waiting for the Hobbit since I was eight and now you're saying that my best friend is in it?- he asked.

-That would seem to be the case.- said Sherlock.

-I'm so proud of you.- admitted John, smiling like a lunatic, already trying to find a way to make Sherlock take him to the premiere.

–We'll talk more later. Let's watch the Olympics. It will be spectacular. I'll put this in your mind palace. It's important.-

As then watched the Queen jumping out of an airplane, John asked:

-That show you do, what's it called? What's it about?-

-It's actually a modern take on the old Arthur Conan Doyle novellas. You know, those about Sheridan Hope and Ormond Sacker*.-

-I love them.- said John –One of the best crime stories ever.-

-I play Hope. We're actually quite alike.- John thought about it for a second.

-Yeah, you are identical.- he concluded.

-You should watch the show sometimes. They say it's really good.-

-I will.- said John.

The rest of the night, they watched the broadcast together, while Sherlock spoiled everything for John because Mycroft told him the whole plan (the army of Mary Poppins' was his idea). The only thing he got wrong was the song that started playing when Fiji representatives walked in. It was supposed to be "I want to Break Free" but the sound of Bee Gees's "Stayin Alive" made Sherlock smile.

-I guess I'm not the only one who came home tonight."

On the other side of the town, by the time the song came to the chorus, Sebastian Moran was already in his car, on his way to the Stadium.

* * *

*Sheridan Hope and Ormond Sacker are the first names for Sherlock Holmes and Watson Conan considered. In this universe, he just went with his original plan.

* * *

You might have noticed that English is my second language and only help I have is the spellchecker and the internet and I apologize for any mistakes you might have encountered. The second chapter will be up tomorrow and, in the meantime, reviews and constructive criticism are welcomed.


	2. Sebastian Moran gets his boss back

Sebastian Moran, a tall, muscular man with blonde hair and face covered with scars, was sitting on his big leather sofa, moping. Huge plasma television on the wall was turned on and showing the five Olympics rings (Rings of Power as Seb called them) getting united and making a beautiful display of fireworks. He was usually the first one to admire a nice explosion, but he really didn't see a point.

The thing was that he was missing a friend. Technically, Jim was his boss, but that title went down the water the second Seb saved Jim from drowning in the pool of his own vomit after almost overdosing. He was his sniper and he continued saving his life for years to come, but there was one thing Sebastian could never save him from: Himself. The bastard took a bullet to the face just to finish a game of chess that he took way too seriously.

Sebastian was now the head of the criminal organization that Jim left behind and the business was blooming. Things were going much smoother when the leader didn't spend 70% of his time obsessing over some guy like he was a teenage girl with a Tumblr account. Not that Seb was jealous of all the attention Jim was giving to that stupid Holmes guy. Jim and he were just friends. They had strictly professional relationship.

But why did Seb blame himself so much for not saying that he cared when he had a chance?

Sebastian hated the fact that he was feeling so… bla. He was cleaning his favorite riffle, paying little to no attention to what was happening on the screen. If Jim was still here, they would have so much fun. If nothing they would spend the night in front of the TV making fun of the stupid ordinary people participating in the making of the event. Of course, it was far more probable that they would be sitting in a VIP booth, waiting for their prank to unravel. Maybe they would make the gigantic Voldemot somehow indestructible or change the video clips they were showing to something funnier, like the Queen saying:

-I declare the 30th annual Hunger Games open. May the odds be ever in your favor.-

Nothing too big. Jim might be Irish and anarchic, but Sebastian was British and patriotic. There was no scenario where he would let his friend ruin one of the biggest events of the decade no matter how much he begged to blow up something.

Sadly, Moriarty was now decomposing at the local graveyard and Sebastian was planning his vengeance. He knew Sherlock Holmes was alive. It's not like the man was really trying to hide. He was popping out everywhere, but he let him have his fun, just to attack him when he's not expecting.

Just to set things strait, this had nothing to do with the fact that he enjoyed Holmes' performance in "Sheridan" and wanted to find out what happens next because the last season ended on a cliffhanger and, no matter how much he threatened the writers, they didn't want to reveal the resolution. Because, if Jim found out that he was watching that show, he would probably crawl out of his grave and hit him over the head with a shovel.

The only thing Sebastian was looking forward to in this ceremony was the part when they show all of the contestants walking. For some reason, he loved that. It reminded his of his army days. The good ones, naturally, before he was kicked of the force. Usually he would challenge himself to find as many people competing in shooting events as possible. Now that made him even mopeier because, after getting wasted at the opening ceremonies in Beijing, Jim decided to try to get Sebastian to compete in one of those categories. Jim died so Seb didn't see the point of applying although he knew he could beat them all.

By the time they got to letter F, Seb was ready to shoot something. His riffle was clean and his rage was enormous. The world sucks if you all of the sudden become your 15year old emo self. Usually he wasn't this sad. He was an army man, pretty cold and emotionless, but the Olympics were their thing. They had plans and now they'll never see them fulfilled.

Then Fiji came along and Seb froze in place. He has heard the song they were playing million times. It was his song and it was their country. The only bigger sign the Sniper could have asked for would be plane writing:

-Sebby boy, daddy's back!- all over the London sky. They didn't even get to the Stayin' alive part and Moran was already in the garage, sitting in his new, fancy, green Aston Martin, and driving towards the station.

He met Moriarty on Fiji when he was sent there by his old boss to kill him. When he saw him dancing to "You're the one that I want" from Grease, Seb just couldn't do it because there are just few things on this world that are more adorable than a, then, 22 year old aspiring criminal mastermind singing that he needs his man to shape up, so he offered him his services.

It didn't take long before Sebastian became Jim's right hand.

As he was speeding down empty streets of London, he dialed a familiar number, 555-546, praying that the bastard didn't change his phone.

-It took you long enough Sebby. I thought you missed my little signal. I had to blackmail quite a lot of people to get it there. But, I have a backup. McCartney will sing "I will survive" instead of "Hey Jude" if I tell him to.- said a familiar voice of James Moriarty

-You died.- said Sebastian. His tone was so cold that it could make anyone shiver. Except for Jim, of course.

-Dying is boring. That's what ordinary people do.- Jim said in his teasing, high pitched voice that Sebastian missed so much.

-And you're a special, little snowflake, aren't you?- He wanted to be mad, he really did, but his brain insisted on being enthusiastically happy.

-You know I am.-

-Why didn't you tell me you were alive?-

-Why didn't you avenge me?- asked Jim. His voice changed completely. The sweet, possibly slightly kooky guy was gone and on his place stood the devil himself. There was something about him that yelled:

-I will hurt you if I don't like your answer.- That was enough to scare everyone, but the person who knew him the best.

-You're alive, why would I avenge you?- asked Sebastian.

-You didn't know that. Why are the Virgin and the Pet still alive? I thought I meant enough to you to at least avenge me. We were friends. Or so I thought.- He did another change of tone and was now sounding like a 4 year old who just lost his favorite teddy.

-I sat there for hours, waiting for you to give me a sign and then I get a call from St. Bart's telling me that they found your body. I had to take care of your criminal empire, worry that I'll end up in jail if The Ice Man even lays his eyes on me and keep your pet iguana happy.-

-How's Steve?- Jim asked.

-Doing splendidly. He bites me every time I try to feed him.

-Just like his daddy.- Sebastian could almost see him smiling–I missed him. I missed you too, in case you're too manly to ask. Did you miss me?-

-You were dead. That's life.- he mumbled.

-I bet you spend the night in front of the TV with Loki the rifle sulking that I'm not there.-

-You overestimated your importance.- Sebastian lied.

-I love you too.- he said –We'll meet in about 10 minutes in front of the stadium. Now, excuse me, I have an Olympic torch to steal.- As Moran yelled:

-No Jim!-, his boss had already hung up.

-Damn it, I shouldn't have let him watch The Dark Knight. – he muttered to himself, as he step on the gas pedal even harder, breaking every traffic law he could think of.

When he got to the Stadium, the torch was being passed to hands of Sir Steven Redgrave.

James Moriarty was sitting on a hood of a black Porsche, obviously bored out of his mind (as usual). Sebastian didn't say a word. He just pointed his gun at him.

-Well, it's nice to see you too.- said Jim, casually drawing his own gun -Who will shoot first?-

-You won't ruin the ceremony.- said Sebastian, feeling like a biggest hypocrite in the world. He has killed for Jim. So much blood was on his hands, and he didn't mind it. However, there he couldn't let him destroy the opening ceremony -I can't let you extinguish the flame.-

-Who said I want to extinguish it? I want to carry the torch.- he said.

-You want to carry the flame? Not burn the stadium down or everybody's heart, but the actual Olympic flame that symbolizes the unity of the whole planet?- asked Sebastian, baffled the new found sense of patriotism that Jim expressed.

-Yes, that flame that that guy is holding. Let me go, I'm missing my chance.-

-I thought you were for anarchy. You hate ordinary people.-

-I do, but if they are all united, it's easier to control them.- he explained -I stopped reading fairytales and switched to dystopian novels.-

-Maybe in Brazil in 4 years.- said Sebastian, slowly putting his gun back.

-You promise?- asked Jim.

-Of course I don't.-

-Just what I thought.- The sky above them turned to fire as countless pounds of gun powder went of, forming a beautiful display of fireworks.

-You weren't really going to steal the torch?- asked Seb, as he stared at the sky amazed by the spectacle.

-You know I wasn't.I'm not an idiot, they would kill me in a second. I just wanted you to get here faster.- answered Jim, mesmerized by fiery sky –Did you see when they threw the Queen out of a plane? Can we threw a royalty out of a plane too?-

-No, we can't. At least not from my country.- said Sebastian –What will you do about Holmes?-

-Burn the heart out of him. This time, I'll start by posting pictures of him of him in a thigh suit when he was playing the dragon. And then a friend of mine, Tom, a really nice guy, will steal all of his fangirls. Maybe even Johnny Boy. Also, he will lose at BAFTAs. You know, small things.- he said.

-If you die one more time before you're 80, I will kill you again myself.- said Sebastian -Let's go home. Don't freak out, but I threw away all your CDs.-

-I guess I had that one coming.- said Jim as he stepped into his car -Sleep with one eye open tonight. If I let you sleep at all.-

The two cars let the parking lot. Sebastian and John had their friends back and Sherlock and Jim were finally home. Tomorrow brought with itself new challenges and problems, but at least that night all was well.

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The ending is kinda cheesy, I know.

If you liked this story, I'm planning on posting few more.

Again, reviews will be rewarded by an internet hug.


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